Encounter in a cave
by BlueCorpse
Summary: Hello. Sorry for going AWOL for so long. This is a silly little story for Fallout: New Vegas. A man has an encounter in a cave. 1st person. Warning for profanity.
1. Encounter in a Cave

The atmosphere is rank and oppressive. In the air there is a smell of rotted flesh decades old. Small smooth white animal bones are scattered on the floor. The darkness is absolute. No human has set foot here for over three hundred years, until tonight. The rock floor I sleep on is cold and does not make good bedding. This is good. It means that I am in a light sleep, where I am more easily awakened. The gun that I sleep with - always - is loaded. I dream of nothing. Everything is silent. No movement.

"Look - there's a way in here."

My eyes remain closed but I am now fully awake. The voice came from my left, to the entrance of the cave, an entrance I had thought hidden but evidently not, male, quiet. My gun is silently loaded and held with stoic hands.

"Do you think they're here?"

"Might as well check. Footprints outside, going in, not comin' out."

This new voice sounds like it comes from an older man. It has an edge of hard-earned age to it. The leader? Now on my belly, aiming the gun in the vague direction of the voices, sweating slightly, I hear the murmurs and scuffles of movement. Whoever they are, they are coming.

"Shit, look here. Cigarettes. Spread out, people. Check the corners."

I must have forgotten to pick one up. Now I was going to have to pay the price for it. There were certainly more than two people. At least four sets of footsteps. Smaller than average for a group like this, but it happens. Suddenly, footsteps behind me: how did they move so quickly?: it's dark, they can't see me: I have the advantage. The serrated knife in my pocket comes out: a second to judge distances: a quick plunge, directly into the left lung. Whoever they are, they try to scream. They can't and tumble to the floor instead, making a thud.

"What was that?"

"Hey - hey - Max, what happened? Max?"

The dying man on the floor actually tries to respond but the effort just causes more blood to pool out. He wretches.

"Everyone, he's here, he got Max! Get the fucker!"

I'm trying to stay calm. I think they're begin to close in on me, it's hard to differentiate between voices when they're all so close -

"Someone, get a fuckin' light!"

- and now my one real advantage is going to be taken away. Time to act. Pull up the gun, aim somewhere to my right, location of the closest voice, just as they pull out what looks to be a torch of some kind - they have batteries? – and they're dead, or close enough, I think it hit their neck. The torch goes spinning to the floor, its light passing for a few seconds on another face, scared and confused, before it crashes against the cave's floor and dims out. I don't think they saw me, though. Now I stand up and start to move. I have a mental map of this place and they don't. Staying in one spot for too long would be suicide. After a few metres I stop. Everyone's silent now. I realise I left my knife behind, still dripping. Then there's yet another voice, from the person who I haven't heard speak before. It's the voice of – a kid? 16 at the most and scared out of their mind, almost on the edge of tears.

"B-boss?"

"Shut your fuckin' mouth... quiet... get your torch out." replies who I assume must be the leader of this little group. He's standing almost directly in front of me, probably staring right into my eyes and not even knowing it. I make a concerted effort to stop breathing. There are footsteps. The boss is walking towards me. I can hear the kid fumbling around, trying to get the light out. A quiet scrape as the boss drags his feet very slowly across the rocks. He's so close that I could reach out and grab his neck. Instead I lift up the gun, still not breathing. If he came a step closer his skull would bang into the end of the gun. The kid stops fumbling, he's managed to bring out the touch.

"OK, boss, I've got it -"

First thing we both see in the new amber light is the top of the man's skull rip apart and fragment into small chunks of meat, covered with hair now matted by blood. Got the fucker's eye, I think. Never saw me, not once.

"Shit! Shit!" the kid almost drops the torch but instead shines it directly on me, strangely. You think he'd turn it off and run. But instead he just stands there like a lamb. Doesn't even move as I sprint over, hit him in the stomach with the butt of the gun, rip the torch out of his hands and belt him over the head with it. Yelps and sinks down to the floor. Gun in one hand, torch in the other, I stand over him. I was right, about 16. To my relief he's breathing. I don't like killing kids when I don't have to. One of his ears has been cut off. Sawed off, looks like. There's a tiny half-broken pistol in his pocket that I quickly steal away. His breathing's arrhythmic, shot to hell. Must be having one hell of a dream. If he's dreaming. And there I am, standing over this bandit kid, covered in the blood of the people who were probably his only friends. What a sight. I pull out a cigarette from one of my pockets, light it with shaking hands and just stand there, not smoking it.


	2. The Kid

I know he's awake when he gasps, and kicks against the floor a little, realising where he is, that's he's not dead, yet. While he was out I tied up his arms with one of the dead guy's belt. Took all their guns as well, and some food from the leader's pocket. Then I sat down next on a rock next to the kid, thought for a long while. It sounds like he's choking, trying to draw in breath and let it out at the same time. Realising that his arms are tied he goes manic, almost, twisting and turning like mad, bashes his head on the floor by accident a few times. I just sit and wait for him to tire himself out. Eventually he lies back down, breathing ragged, and just so happens to look over at me, as I'm looking at him. My gun's still in my hands. He closes his eyes and prays.

"O God - O God, hallowed is - is thy name -"

"Hey. Kid." I haven't spoken for several weeks. My throat's as barren as the lands I walk, my voice sounds like a death rattle. He either doesn't notice or doesn't listen to me.

"Your kingdom will come, your will -"

I push his shoulder with my foot, not with much force. "Kid."

He opens his eyes again and looks at me. Doesn't say anything.

"You hungry? Want some food?"

He pauses for a moment, a frozen image, then nods slowly.

"I'm gonna untie you. You aren't going to try nothin' - " he shakes his head " - because I'll shoot you. Kill you stone cold. OK?"

Nods again. I get up and flip him over onto his back, using his shoulder as the pivot, pull out my knife and sever the bindings. I step back and aim the gun onto him. After a moment of stasis he moves, rolls away from me onto his back and get up onto shaky feet. His posture is slightly hunched and the breaths he takes are massive. In my pocket is the meat I took from the leader. I think it came from a dog. I stretch out my arm to him, palm upwards. The gun's in my other hand, still pointed at him. His eyesight switches between the two a few times before he speaks, in an unsteady tone:

"I don't want to eat if you're going to shoot me after."

I don't say anything, just lean forwards towards him a little more. The chunks of meat is weeks old. Tough and dry as bone. The kid takes it and gnaws at it like the dog it came from, ravenous and flecks of spit in his mouth's corners. Neither of us takes our eyes of the other. When he finishes I gesture to the cave's entrance with the gun's barrel.

"Time to go."

In the cave there's a cold wind, circling around our ankles.

"I've got nothing. I'll die."

"Go north. There's an NCR patrol on the road. You'll find them. Or they'll find you."

"I'll die."

"Don't care. Get out."

I don't like killing kids. But I don't like dying myself, either. Giving him the dog meat was enough. Too much, almost. I should have just left the cave while he was out, never see him again - but my damn conscience, it makes a coward of me. He scuttles out at half a run, not looking back. He'll either die or he won't. Or he'll come back in a few hours with his friends and I'll be done for. I'll have to move soon. Follow the road south, hope he followed my advice. See where it takes me. There's food enough in my bag to last a week, and bullets to match. Water will be tougher, but it's manageable. For now, though, I can afford an hour's sleep.


End file.
